Sorting Day
by Vivien Lestrange
Summary: Neville Longbottom is one of the few Hogwarts students who argued with the Sorting Hat. This is how their conversation might have gone.


**Disclaimer:** The rights for Harry Potter and anything related don't belong to me. No money is being made with this story.

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**Sorting Day  
**

Neville was so nervous he was afraid he might be sick. He had to try this hat on and the entire school would be watching. His legs were shaking badly as he walked towards the stool. Everyone looked at him. They probably asked themselves how a student could be so afraid. Some of them might know his family name. The Longbottoms were known for their courage. Neville wasn't brave. He was a coward, a shame for his family. He was scared of the dark, scared of deep water, scared of heights, scared of loud noises, scared of unknown people, scared of screams and even scared of magic itself. The only thing he wasn't afraid of were plants. He knew how to handle them; even the poisonous and dangerous ones.

His Gran wanted him to go to Gryffindor like his father and his grandfather. Gryffindor was the house of the brave. Neville couldn't think of a place where he belonged less. He wanted to go to Hufflepuff. The Head of House was the Herbology teacher and Great Aunt Enid had told him that they kept plants in their common room. The only house that did this. Hufflepuffs were the kindest and most understanding people as well. They wouldn't judge him and ask him to be someone he simply wasn't.

Professor McGonagall, the strict Transfiguration teacher and Head of Gryffindor put the Sorting Hat over his head. She frightened him as well. There was something very eerie about tall women with long black hair. Sometimes, he had nightmares about them.

Neville flinched when a voice started to speak in his head. "Oh, another Longbottom. Interesting." He wondered if he was going mad from nervousness. Could this happen? He didn't want to be mad like his parents.

"Don't worry. You're not mad. It's me, the Sorting Hat. I see great loyalty, compassion and a desire to care for other beings. You are protective of those you love. You've suffered greatly and it shows but underneath there are lots of courage, determination and resilience. Where do I put you now? I'd suggest Gryffindor like your parents."

"Gryffindor? I can't go to Gryffindor. I'm not brave." Wasn't that obvious? "But I like plants. Can't I go to Hufflepuff?"

"Hufflepuff ey? I don't think that is the right place for you. You are brave even though you're not aware of it yet."

"I'm not brave. I'm not like my father." Couldn't they finally understand this? He was Neville, not Frank.

"I never said you were like your father. You have your own kind of courage though. I think you could do well in Gryffindor."

"I'd be happier in Hufflepuff."

"Maybe in the beginning. Gryffindor will help you grow though. It will help you reach your true potential."

"The things I want to do are easier to do in Hufflepuff." Neville wanted to grow plants and maybe, just maybe if he was ever good enough help make other people healthy again like the Healers at Saint Mungo's.

"You don't give up, do you? I haven't had many people who've had the courage to argue with me like that. That's why you clearly belong in **Gryffindor**!

Neville got up from the stool. Only when he heard people laughing, he realised that he was still wearing the Sorting Hat. He handed it back to Professor McGonagall who looked at him angrily. She reminded him of his Gran. Professor McGonagall surely was disappointed to be stuck with someone like him in her own house. Many of the other Gryffindors looked surprised. Some of them laughed as well. The fewest laughing people were sitting at the Hufflepuff table.

Neville's face burned with shame. Because he had kept the hat on his head but also because he had not been able to do what he wanted rather than what his Gran wanted. She'd continue treating him like his father in miniature. His father who had been so much more brave and talented and who had still been defeated in the worst possible way.

Neville sat down on the Gryffindor table. A few people greeted him politely. Most of them didn't seem too happy to have him. Neville felt his eyes burn. He would have liked to cry but he knew he couldn't. It would only make everything much worse.


End file.
